


To Sharpen the Blade

by knowtheway



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Angst, F/M, Pregnancy, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:40:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21763885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knowtheway/pseuds/knowtheway
Summary: When she doesn’t answer, he walks to the other side of the sofa, and exhales audibly when he sees that silent tears are streaming down her face. She doesn’t look at him – her eyes trained to the dancing flames in front of her – but she whispers, “I worried you wouldn’t come.”
Relationships: Lord Asriel/Marisa Coulter
Comments: 11
Kudos: 129





	To Sharpen the Blade

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fic in the HDM universe. Been a long while since I’ve had a proper read-through of the series, but here’s hoping I remember the messed up dynamic of these two well enough to have done them a bit of justice. lol Thanks for reading!

Stepping through the door of the Coulter residence could hardly ever be called a warm experience, but crossing the threshold into an empty foyer, with the cold evening air blowing against his back, has made a sense of trepidation creep into his skin. Gently clicking the door closed behind Stelmaria, she looks up at him questioningly, “Something’s wrong.”

He gives her a tense glance back, pursing his lips, and nodding. “We won’t stay long.”

She sighs, bowing her head slightly, and then follows after her master as he walks towards the firelight emanating from the parlor.

When he reaches the entrance, her back is to him as she sits on the sofa, her gaze cast towards the crackling fire. Ozymandias notices them first, rising to his feet on the edge just behind her. He locks eyes with Stelmaria, his face brightening slightly, and makes to move towards her. She starts to purr in response, but then he flinches and cowers back, curling around his mistress’ shoulder.

The leopard shares a concerned look with her master and looks intently at the woman on the couch again, who has yet to turn around or acknowledge their presence.

“Marisa?” he says softly.

When she doesn’t answer, he walks to the other side of the sofa, and exhales audibly when he sees that silent tears are streaming down her face. She doesn’t look at him – her eyes trained to the dancing flames in front of her – but she whispers, “I worried you wouldn’t come.”

He looks at her a moment, his lips turning up into a half-smile. “I admit I considered making you chase me a bit more.”

She laughs softly, turning her eyes up to him as another tear falls, and smiling. “As you would.”

Their last encounter had ended, as it often did, with a passionate visit to his bed followed by an even more passionate argument the next morning. She’d stormed out, as she often did, with the promise that she never wanted to see his face again. She had a flare for dramatics when the fancy struck her and getting the best of her - as he often did - was exactly what ignited such a fancy. And it was maddening. He longed for her and hated her in equal parts, deciding that this could indeed be the last time they parted. For good. But then two weeks went by... and he missed her. It was almost serendipitous that her call came just at the height of his wanting, when he was just on the edge of breaking. And now here he stood and she couldn’t look more pitiful.

So he softens, stepping in to sit next to her, and Ozymandias disentangles himself to skitter towards Stelmaria whose head is now resting on the empty cushion to the side. He rubs his face against hers, squeaking softly, and she settles into a steady purr at the gesture.

Asriel lets his eyes wander over her – she’s always been well put together, this evening being no exception. She’s wearing a modest dress of luxurious material – quite the metaphor, he thinks – and the jade of her earrings glints beautifully against the firelight. Though it’s clear she’s been in her current state for some time, her makeup is barely smudged and the way she straightens her back, lays her hands in her lap, and takes a deep breath is with as much feigned poise and posture as he’s come to expect from her.

He leans his elbows on his knees, turning his face towards her. “Why have you called me here, Marisa?”

Her eyes flutter closed and she hesitates, seems to be stalling. He catches the sweet scent of her perfume and being so close to her suddenly renders him helpless to touching her. So he reaches around her waist, caresses her cheek with his hand, and lets out a soothing “hm?” when she leans her face into his touch. He moves his body closer to her, his face inches from hers, and her lips part to accommodate her slightly faster breathing. His eyes dart to her mouth just as he makes to kiss her, but then she gasps suddenly and places a hand to his chest. “No,” she says, pushing him back, and diverting her eyes to the floor.

He lets out a soft chuckle, resting his hand over hers and stroking his thumb over her knuckles. “Are you not going to admit you’ve missed me, then?”

Her brows knit together and she huffs, pulling his hands away and rising to her feet. Ozymandias jumps down over to her, climbing atop the coffee table and cooing in concern as she paces in small circles.

“Not that I’d expect you to have any emotional perception beyond your own desires, but I didn’t call you to rekindle any...  _misguided_ feelings,” she looks pointedly at him and Stelmaria begins growling softly.

He raises an amused, albeit noticeably offended brow, and huffs. “Accusing me of being wrapped up in  _my_ own desires? ... Now, that is rich, my dear.”

“Oh, please,” she breathes out. “Don’t think me stupid enough to believe you came here with any other intention than to see to your own pleasure and then leave. Surely, you owe me more respect than that.”

“Respect?” he laughs, rising and walking over to her, and both daemons stand upright and alert. “Of all things, darling, I think respect is the last thing you are owed.”

“I could say as much for you,” she snaps back.

His nose wrinkles and he lets out a resentful snicker, “Well then, I suppose we’re both guilty of sin, yes?”

“Indeed,” she nods, moving closer towards the fireplace. “Sin and stupidity.”

“Spare me the riddles,” he spits out. “What stupidity have I participated in - aside from coming here this evening?”

Clinging to the mantle to steady herself, she turns her head. “I’m pregnant,” she says tersely with a pained expression and her breathing speeds up as fresh tears well in her eyes.

The tension on his face fades to shock so quickly, it’s as if all the blood in his cheeks has now settled into his feet. The air itself seems to stand still and his heartbeat thumps loudly in his ears. 

Further emphasizing the point, she assures him, “The child is yours.”

He hears his shaky exhale as if he’s viewing the scene from above, entirely outside of his body and it’s only the guttural noise from Stelmaria’s throat that brings him back down. Never quite as clever with words, he can only think to ask, “How long?”

“Two months,” she says quietly, taking a shaky breath. “And Edward has been away for five.”

They share a knowing look, his lip twitching slightly as a storm of emotions beats down on him from panic to anger to disbelief to... fondness. If he’d been a smarter man, he may have thought to deny it - to scoff and leave her to deal with the reality of it on her own. But by God if she didn’t always make him the biggest fool - if only staring into her soft doe eyes didn’t so expertly undo the tight bindings within him that no one else could ever seem to touch.

She seems to be waiting for him to speak... to be callous or to leave, but any expectation to do so gets tossed away when Stelmaria tentatively approaches her.

Marisa looks down at her, quiet tears falling, and the leopard hesitates a moment before doing something Asriel has never seen before. She nudges her head under Marisa’s hand and lets her stroke her, Stelmaria sighing as she rubs her cheek gently against Marisa’s stomach.

Marisa sobs, bending to softly hug the leopard’s head into her, and her monkey stands cautiously between Asriel and the two. When he moves to step towards her, the monkey makes a small noise of... fear, hesitation? He’s not sure, but she looks up at him, Stelmaria stepping aside as she lets her hands fall away from her fur. 

“Will you keep it?” he asks and he instantly regrets it, even Stelmaria narrowing her eyes at him.

She blinks. “What is the alternative?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but once again the art of spoken word escapes him and the silence leaves a tense fog in the air as he uncharacteristically fidgets with his hands.

Marisa exhales sharply. “Are you... are you asking me not to keep it?”

“No,” he says hurriedly, taking a step towards her, but she looks to the side, avoiding his eyes.

“You needn’t be involved, if that’s what you’re asking instead,” Ozymandias wraps his arms around her leg protectively, Stelmaria giving Asriel an annoyed growl under her breath. “Perhaps that would even be for the best.”

He hears the bitterness and hurt creeping into her voice, so he quickly closes the gap between them - one arm encircling her waist and the other cupping her cheek, turning her face to his. “Marisa,” he whispers firmly, “I ask nothing.”

She’s barely even containing the malice brewing behind her eyes, but she whispers back all the same, “Then what will we do?”

He slides his hand into her hair, staring at her with an intensity he can feel in the tightness of skin, searching her face for the answer neither seems to know at present. And amongst the anger and resentment and fear, he catches a flash of softness... of pleading and, unable to contain himself any longer, he crashes his lips to hers in a fierce kiss.

———

It takes mere minutes for him to have her naked beneath him and under normal circumstances, she would curse herself for giving him the satisfaction, but the way his hands are running over her so reverently and his lips laying soft kisses down her neck and chest are the only things she can focus on.

Sliding her hands up his back, she curls one leg over the back of his thigh as he crushes his mouth over hers. She whimpers into it, taking delight in his grunt of pain when she sinks her nails into his skin and rakes them over his spine. They’ve always been excellent at teasing each other, but the desperation between them is far too potent for such games. Pulling back and reaching between them, he locks eyes with her, positioning himself at her entrance and pushes into her with one firm thrust.

She would never call their lovemaking gentle, and now certainly is no exception, but he’s noticeably being more careful - gazing down at her and watching her face to ensure each move isn’t too harsh, too rough for her or the child growing inside her. His child. _Their_ child.

Suddenly needing him closer, she curls her hand around the back of his neck, pulling his face to hers so that she can capture his lips. When he pulls away to kiss down her jawline, she’s begun crying and - after a small sob escapes her lips - he pulls back to look at her and stills.

“Don’t,” she whispers.

“Marisa... “ he touches his hand to the side of her face.

“Don’t stop,” she begs quietly, hugging him closer to her. “Please, Asriel.”

He looks into her eyes, breath warm against her lips as he seems to let her assurance sink in. Brushing his nose against hers, he starts to move again, keeping his eyes locked on hers until it starts to overwhelm her and she’s moaning softly as her eyes flutter closed.

This seems to have the same effect on her lover and, feeling him speed up the movement of his hips, she wraps her arms tight around his shoulders, burying her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Darling,” she alerts him to her impending release. He growls softly and pulls hard at her thigh just as a gasp escapes her lips and then she’s coming, crying out as she tightens around him, feeling him join her seconds later with a rush of warmth inside her.

They lie tangled together for some time after, steadying their breaths and letting their hands roam over each other’s bodies.

Several minutes later, he’s curled on his side behind her, hugging her back to his chest as she idly strokes his arm which is draped over her. She feels him gently slide his hand over her womb, fanning his fingers out and resting them there protectively.

“We’ll be together, all of us,” he whispers, kissing her shoulder, and her heart begins to ache.

“Don’t promise the impossible,” she says sadly, staring off into nothing, but resting her hand atop his.

He kisses her again. “I promise to make it possible.”  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Thanks again for reading!


End file.
